Split the Night
by HunterJay
Summary: Hawke really hates Crestwood. Stranger Than Fiction series: Part 1.


**Disclaimer:** Sadly not mine.

 **Split the Night**

Rain drove mercilessly downward, splashing flecks of mud into the small cave in which they'd taken refuge for the night. Another fine end to another wretched day of trekking through soggy fields while cold, grey mountains loomed over them. People could say what they liked about Kirkwall but at least _it_ knew the meaning of a nice warm day. Hawke wasn't sure if the residents of Crestwood were even aware of the sun's existence at this point or if it had been driven from their minds by a hoard of demons and undead. Charming place, really.

"Sigh more quietly," said the Seeker abruptly from where she sat at the other end of the cave's entrance. And that was about the most Hawke had been able to get out of Cassandra during this whole sorry trip. She'd been making a point of actively ignoring both she and Varric since they'd left Skyhold. At first it had been amusing but now Hawke was growing weary of the silent treatment.

"Terribly sorry, Seeker," said Hawke, forcing cheer into her voice. "Wouldn't want to drown out the moaning and groaning wandering undead. Better than any Orlesian symphony or so I've heard."

Cassandra pierced Hawke with a scathing look before turning her attention back to the infinite darkness beyond their little hovel. When Hawke had drawn the short straw of taking the first watch tonight with Cassandra she honestly hadn't been expecting a better response, but still, for reasons she didn't care to contemplate, she'd never been one to enjoy silence. Not that Hawke begrudged the Inquisitor the extra rest. She _had_ closed two rifts today and looked so exhausted after the second one that Hawke almost confused her for one of the animated corpses she'd just spent fifteen minutes trying to destroy...though she'd kept _that_ particular thought to herself.

"You are still doing it!"

Hawke clicked her tongue against her teeth. "Now, now, Seeker, indoor voice or you'll wake the Inquisitor. We wouldn't want that now, would we?" Cassandra huffed. "Sigh more quietly, please."

" _You_ -" Then Cassandra stopped and very deliberately closed her mouth. It was apparent she was already done with the conversation, much to Hawke's disappointment. This time when she sighed it was on purpose.

"Do you intend to keep this up for the whole trip? I'm asking for a friend. Not Varric though," said Hawke. No response. "I'll take that as a yes then." She tapped her fingers on the damp ground. "I suppose that means I'll have to fill the silence myself." Still nothing. "I heard the Chargers chanting a delightful little number in your ' _Herald's Rest_ ' the night before we left Skyhold. I don't recall the name but if I were to guess I'd say it was something along the lines of Ode to the Bouncing Maiden." There was no verbal response but Cassandra was now grinding her teeth like a champ. "How did it go..."

"You have made your point," said Cassandra, with a roll of her dark eyes. "Now please desist."

"There once was a whore from Nevarra-"

" _Hawke_!"

From a few feet away in her bedroll the Inquisitor grumbled in her sleep and rolled onto her back. "Cassandra," she groaned without opening her eyes, and the two women froze. "Can you keep it down?"

Looking mortified, Cassandra nodded her head but Lavellan had already fallen back asleep. Hawke pushed a palm hard against her mouth to stop a laugh from escaping because based on the look on the Seeker's face it would not be well received.

"Don't look so smug," said Cassandra in a much lower voice than she'd been using previously. "That was entirely your fault."

"Oh I'm sure it was. Varric's too, I suspect," said Hawke, waving a hand around. "Most things seem to be. The Qunari invasion. The mage rebellion. The rain."

"Your flippancy does you no credit," said Cassandra stiffly.

"Then it's a good thing I'm not looking for credit, isn't it?" said Hawke. She leaned back against the freezing cold and slightly damp cave wall and folded her arms. "Is it my fault the bloody thing just falls into my lap?"

Cassandra actually looked at her then and blinked. After a moment she said, "You cannot be serious?"

"That's very flattering, but sadly untrue. I _can_ be serious," Hawke lamented as she brought the back of her hand to her forehead in mock woe. "Why...just the other day I was torn between taking tea or just a glass of water with my morning omelette. One of the most difficult decisions I've ever made in my young life."

The noise of utter disgust that passed Cassandra's lips then was one Hawke would treasure for the rest of her days, however few or many they may be. She suddenly understood why Varric enjoyed baiting the woman so much. Cassandra was just so...tightly wound.

Unlike Hawke, the warrior sat up with her back ramrod straight and though it was pitch back beyond their little cave Cassandra still peered out with more intensity than should have been possible to be contained in a single human woman. Not even Aveline had been this disciplined, though perhaps that had something to do with her part in Hawke's merry band of misfits. It was as admirable as it was annoying, Hawke decided.

"What do you do for fun, Seeker?" she asked after another lengthy silence.

"Fun?" Not quite the answer Hawke was looking for but at least she'd received a response.

"Yes. You must be familiar with the word?" Hawke continued. "What do you do for entertainment when you aren't killing demons, dragons or conversations?"

Cassandra scowled. "I know what the word means. What I'm missing is your point."

"Must every conversation have a point?" asked Hawke.

"A view I'm not surprised to hear coming from a woman who talks so much but says so little," said Cassandra, exasperated. "Yes, every conversation must have a reason for being and I see no reason to play mindless word games so you and Varric can mock me for it later when my back is turned. It is not my idea of _fun_."

The witty retort died on Hawke's tongue. The Seeker was angry with her, she understood that, but she hadn't realised the woman held such a low opinion of her. She'd be lying if she said it didn't sting a little. Hadn't she done enough to earn herself a little leeway yet? She'd been on her best behaviour for days.

Having waited too long to reply, Hawke forced an artificial smirk that she knew would earn herself yet another disparaging head shake. "All right, Seeker," she said. "We'll do this your way." Then a lot more quietly she added, "In an awkward and miserable silence." Sera had rolled onto her back and was snoring noisily so at least that would break the monotony for a while.

She held back a bone-weary sigh and turned her attention outwards toward the doom and gloom that lay beyond the mouth of their little cave. If she was lucky maybe some more undead _would_ shuffle their way over and distract her from this interminable darkness. It might even perk up her companion to have an excuse to whip out her blade once more. Had Hawke been in the right frame of mind about twelve terrible jokes would have crossed her mind at that.

"I apologise."

Hawke frowned to herself - and now she was imagining things. _Absolutely marvellous._

"That was...uncalled for," continued Cassandra with seeming difficulty.

Her eyes moved back to Cassandra, who's expression could now only be described as resigned. It was a look Hawke recognised from the rare occasion she looked in a mirror these days.

"I forgive you," she said.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes. "You forgive me? No snide comments? No witty rejoinder? You just...forgive me?"

Hawke shrugged off Cassandra's suspicion. "I've never been the type to hold a grudge." If she had been she'd probably have spent a very lonely decade in Kirkwall. To begin with a minor betrayal was practically Isabela's way of saying a fond hello.

The expression on the Seeker's face then morphed into something less readable and although the pervasive quiet persisted, it felt somewhat less chilly than before. Hawke decided to put a mark in the 'win' column for the conversation as a whole, and Maker knew she needed a win right now. Sometimes it became hard not to feel like she was trapped in an endless loop of one unfortunate event after another. As though she was the butt of some bizarre cosmic joke.

Before Hawke could travel any further down that road of thought she shook her head. _Don't be so bloody maudlin, you arse_ , said a voice in her head that sounded remarkably like a certain Rivaini pirate. It was the rain, she was sure, putting a dampener on both her mood and her hair. Then there was the whole unleashing Corypheus upon the world fiasco, but honestly it was probably just the weather thing.

"Read," said Cassandra. Hawke blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"For fun," Cassandra clarified. "I like to read."

Hawke's lip twisted in amusement, her malaise momentarily forgotten. "Reading," she replied. "I have to admit I was expecting something with a little more violence."

"That is more of a calling than a hobby," said Cassandra and Hawke let out a quiet laugh.

"I think I must be growing delirious. If I didn't know better I'd say you just made a _joke_ ," said Hawke.

Cassandra sighed. "Then it is good you know better."

* * *

 **Author's Note(s):** So this is more like pre-Hawke/Cassandra. It was an idea I got into my head and decided I needed to write but then it was a lot harder than I was expecting to make it work.


End file.
